


Run to the Hills

by gemnoire



Series: Geek Activism is more than just Child's Play [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Geek Love, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemnoire/pseuds/gemnoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the beginning of University and due to a housing mix-up Marius needs to find new accomodation before he looses what was left of his will to live. Of course moving in with some of Eponine's self-professed geeky friends is likely to be equally damaging for his sanity. But at least he'll get to play a lot Dungeons and Dragons in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first part of what I hope will be a series detailing Les Amis as members of a roleplaying/boardgaming club at University.
> 
> It may be blatantly based at a University somewhere in the North of England, which shall remain nameless. Bonus points if anyone guesses the university (Yup, its pretty obvious if you went there). 
> 
> The series will go through a variety of relationships, so I'm tagging the ones that actually appear in each fic, either actual, unrequited (would it be a Les Mis fic without unrequited e/R or Ep/Marius), or pre-slash stages.

_Run to the Hills - Run for your lives  
Run to the Hills - Run for your lives  
_ Iron Maiden, Run to the Hills

Fresher's week, the first week of the first year of University, meant many things to many people. To some, it was an opportunity to let loose. Finally set free from parental shackles, they would take the chance to drink, party, fuck and generally experience all that new university life was to offer them before classes and essays and homework took over. For others, it was the misery of homesickness, constant phone calls to parents, siblings, friends, boyfriends or girlfriends, all those left behind or moved away from them half way across the country. Whereas for those few of a more studious disposition, it was the chance to get to know their way around the university, their departments, the library and their reading lists, in essence taking advantage of the relative calm to set themselves up well for the rest of the year.

If one were to be honest, for most, it was a little of each. Students, despite what the Daily Mail would like you to believe, still formed part of humanity and human beings rarely existed entirely at the extremes. More often than not they were a rich panoply of contradicting traits, the more strong of which were often used to then characterise or stereotype in others minds in ignorance of the true complexity of the mind.

Marius considered himself to be a reasonably typical student, albeit somewhat more socially awkward. As such, he had initially planned to do mostly the third option, very little of the second, parental discord and a gap year working abroad had sufficiently taken care of that, whilst indulging more than occasionally in the third, most likely in the company of Eponine, his best, read only, friend from school who'd forgone the gap year before heading to university.

That had been the plan at least.

Instead he had spent the first week miserable, sleep deprived and desperately trying to sort out alternative accommodation. The University, it seemed, had managed to oversubscribe its accommodation, well technically according to the letter he received the University had 'received an unexpected number of successful applicants and therefore had more new students requiring rooms than could be accommodated by their selected first preferences '.

Whichever way it was, Marius had ended up as one of the unlucky ones stuck in a double room with no effective catering facilities and the room-mate from hell (despite, as the glossy advertising literature assured him, all accommodation on campus being single rooms with prices to match). It was, Marius suspected, partially his own fault for getting his application in late. His was not strictly his fault for once, up until a month before the start of term he had been certain of being able to save some money by staying with his grandfather in the city. But a distinct falling out with the old man had but a stop to that notion and left him filing in the interminable forms the Accommodation Service seemed to require just to give new students a pace to live.

So here he was, at the end of Fresher's week, sleep-deprived for all the wrong reasons, looking over one of the many noticeboards on campus to see if there was a suitable room to spare. As seemed to be typical with his current run of fortune, his university account had not being properly set up yet to actually do anything useful like access the internal small ads and, although Eponine had mentioned something about friends of hers maybe having a spare room, she didn't exactly sound certain which didn't leave him many options.

“Don't mind me, just need to get to the board. You can stay right where you are if you want, I promise not to feel you up as I do,” a cheerful, accented, voice came from over his ear as a curly haired young man leaned past him to reach the board, blatantly stealing a pin from the corner of the TorySoc poster and pinning his own notice, looking for a house-mate - oh the coincidence, most of the way over the now denuded poster to add insult to injury. He gave Marius a grin as he did, his eyes blatantly eyeing him up, “unless of course you want me to.”

“Huh, what?” came the highly intelligent response, before Marius caught up with the conversation and what was clearly meant to be a chat up line, leaving him blushing and stammering slightly, he was not exactly used to boys, well anyone really, trying to chat him up. He mentally blamed sleep deprivation for his highly eloquent response, it was far too early in the morning for this amount of cheerfulness or indeed the faintly impenetrable Irish accents.

The response must not have been that usual however, as the other boys hardly looked overly put out by Marius' bumbling reaction to his obviously none-too-serious pick-up and just continued blithely on, “so you looking for somewhere to live this early in the term? Obviously Halls gets worse every year. Wait, let me guess, you ended up in Cell Block C”

“Um.. yes, I mean no.” Marius took a deep breath and tried to answer one question at a time, “I ended up in a double because they ran out of single rooms. I mean I'm sure that's fine if you like that kind of thing and they're only charging me half, which is much more affordable, but I'd rather have my own space. So yes, I'm looking for somewhere to live” Dammit, what was it about talking to new people that turned him into a blathering idiot. 'And this, Marius, is why you suck at making friends' he thought to himself ruefully

“Well then, my friend, you're in luck. Because we happen to be looking for a new house-mate, and you look like you'd fit right in.” The smile he was graced with from the as-yet-unnamed youth was blinding as he gestured to the advert he'd just put up and waved a sheaf of obviously identical notices destined for other notice boards.

“Really?” Marius couldn't quite keep the disbelief from his voice, he wasn't exactly used to fitting in anywhere, “um, what makes you say that.”

“Anyone with a Princess Bride quote on their t-shirt clearly has excellent taste, and therefore would make a fine addition to our household. Us geeks must stick together after all. Unless of course you've just borrowed that t-shirt from someone else and you're really into football and Jeremy Kyle, because that would be false advertising.” The t-shirt in question was one of Marius' favourites, sporting a US convenience store style name-tag stating cheerily 'Hello, My Name is... Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die'. Marius noticed that the other boy's own t-shirt hidden under a hideously loud Hawaiian monstrosity, was sporting a large dragon curled around a space-ship and the words SF&F Society written on it, as if to clearly advertise his 'geek' credentials.

“No, no, it's mine, although I'm not sure I would describe myself as much of a geek, although I have read Lord of the Rings more times than is healthy, even before the films came out. I mean, if you have a room that would be great, although my friend Eponine said something about friends of hers needing a house-mate, so I'd have to check with her.” He cringed slightly at the nonsense coming out of his mouth, sure the other boy would suddenly decide that offering him a room was a bad idea but if anything he just seemed to smile wider.

“You're a friend of Eponine's? Even better. I'm Courfeyrac by the way, but everyone calls me Courf.” Marius wasn't entirely certain if that was a first name or a last name, after all who on earth named their kid Courfeyrac. Unless of course it was Irish. He wasn't going to ask out of a hope of not appearing a complete idiot.

“Um Marius, Marius Pontmercy,” he held out a hand in greeting which was completely ignored as Courfeyrac slung an arm over his shoulder and started directed him towards the large Physics building that seemed to be doubling up at the moment as an exhibition hall for the various student societies. Or at least it would be come 10am when the Fresher's Fair started, although most normal students probably wouldn't start emerging from their beds till much later.

“Come on, I'll get you to meet the other guys in the house, I'm hoping most of them should be in the hall preparing for Fresher's Fair, Eponine certainly will be, so she can vouch for the fact we're not axe murderers or anything. Although I have my doubts about Bahorel at times.” Marius couldn't quite keep the horrified look off his face at that, causing his new, well friend he guessed, to laugh, “Just kidding, he's a big teddy bear really. I'm warning you though, its only the box room, but that means you get to pay less than the rest of us, so that's a win-win."

Marius, slightly dazed by the whole affair just let himself be led and hoped to god that his life would start making sense soon, but he wasn't actually holding out much hope.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire plays music, Enjolras rants about the Student Union and Marius falls in love (maybe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this part was meant originally meant to be the same chapter as the first, but it turned into a monster on me. Still, I know where I'm going with this now and I managed to get most of the Amis to actually turn up in this one.

Fresher's Fair was, according to the posters liberally plastered around campus, a chance to get to know all the 'sports clubs, societies and social activities that will make Your University experience the Best Time of Your Life!!!'. Marius had his doubt about that and both the random capitalisation and the exclamation marks gave him significant concerns about the sanity of the writer.

As far as Marius could tell from listening to actual students, it was predominantly a chance to get free stuff from the various companies which set up stalls there, sign up to more clubs than you were ever going to actually attend and pick up some of the almost inexhaustible supple of condoms the Student Union seemed to be distributing in a vain attempt to promote safe sex.

Despite the fact the event hadn't actually officially started, entering the hall was like being blasted with a nightmarish combination of sound and colour. There were bright orange balloons floating around and bubblegum pop blasting from speakers as a mobile phone operator and an insurance company had both set up obnoxiously loud stalls right next to the entrance, no doubt in the hope to enticing naïve and lazy students to sign up with them by being the first thing they saw when they wandered in.

Although Marius usually fell towards the laziness, frankly the bright orange stall was more likely to terrify him than part with his money and he was pretty sure none of his stuff was worth enough to need insurance anyway. However, once he got past the obnoxiously well laid out corporate stalls, he could see that the actual society tables were most still in the process of being set up, with those conscientious society committee members frantically pinning up posters, laying out flyers and generally trying to set up the small tables they'd been given the best they could to promote their particular form of student entertainment. Some definitely seemed to be succeeding more than others.

Marius found himself being guided towards the back by his new... friend? Housemate? Potential serial killer? He let himself be led, figuring the best thing was just to let himself go with the flow and hope that at the end of the rabbit hole there would be somewhere to live with his very own room, hopefully without needing to eat any size changing mushrooms or deal with mad tea parties along the way. Although, on consideration, Courfeyrac did seem to be doing quite a good impression of the Chesire cat.

The pop music from the entrance thankfully started fading away as they went further in to be replaced by a darker heavier sound, a lot like the sort of records Eponine used to play, and distinctly coming from the direction he was being lead.

“Hey, give me a minute to drop this off and I'll go introduce you to R,” his new friend, or at least acquaintance, Marius wasn't sure you could describe someone you'd only met ten minutes ago as a friend, assured him as they rounded the corner, waving a small money lockbox in his hands and a sheaf of papers in the other. He faintly gestured towards the source of the noise as he bounded over to what was obviously his original destination, a stall backed by a large dragon poster and strewn with dice, figures, roleplaying books and what even seemed to be a large foam shield resting against it. Unsurprisingly, the banner at the back proclaimed the society to be _Friends of SF &F Society, _which he supposed was slightly more original than some of the other society names he'd seen.

“In fact I think Eponine's over too, if you need someone to vouch for our non-axe murdering nature,” Courfeyrac called back over his shoulder, before being immediately enveloped into a conversation by the serious looking bespectacled blond behind the stall, who seemed far from impressed by the Irish boy's time-keeping skills.

Marius felt more than a little lost now that the human hurricane that seemed to be Courfeyrac had been swallowed up by another target.

The hall was large and, at least for the moment, entirely filled with people who had jobs to do and stalls to set up. He faintly wondered if he was even meant to be in here before the whole thing started and half expected some Student Union rep to come marching up to him and demand to know which committee he was on before unceremoniously throwing him out on his ear. Which was of course silly, as the hall was still one of the main thoroughfares of the campus and it wasn't like there weren't plenty of other students wandering back and forth, completely unrelated to the ongoing festivities.

Failing anything else, he wandered in the direction of the music, hoping beyond hope to see some sort of familiar face, and hopefully not manage to get himself too lost (he was pretty certain he could manage it in this size hall, he'd already gotten lost once walking between the bathroom and his new room, and that was down a straight corridor).

Spotting Eponine was actually pretty easy, her stall being set up along the back wall, with only an empty stalled allegedly belonging to the Legalize Cannabis Society (living up to the stereotype by not having turned up yet) separating her from where Courfeyrac was seemed to be currently trying to remember where he had put the keys to what Marius assumed was probably the society's money box.

Eponine's stall was also apparently the source of the music filtering through the hall, the white on black banner behind her proclaiming _AlternaSoc!_ and a laptop on the desk apparently providing the source of the music, as well as a convenient pillow a curly haired student with a bad black dye job and a faintly see-through black mesh shirt.

She was also currently engaged in what seemed to be a heated debate with another of the Friends of SF&F Society, if the man's t-shirt was anything to go by, with regards to the volume of said music.

“Listen Enjolras, this is an Alternative Music Society, we play alternative music. Since we don't have the chance to put up big Dragons behind us, this is how we advertise. Of course, if you don't like it I'm sure you can find somewhere else to put your stall,” Eponine smiled sweetly at him.

“Not at volumes where I can barely hear what the person next to me is saying, its not. This hall is a communal space, there are more societies than just yours trying to recruit people, some of who actually would like the chance to talk to prospective members as they do so!”

“You seem to holding a conversation with Eponine just fine,” the slumped student offered up, barely lifting his head from the laptop. His voice had a light lilt that Marius couldn't quite place but was reminiscent of Courfeyrac.

“That's besides the point, just turn it down! Or at least change the playlist. I am well aware that your society considers Alternative music to cover everything from classic glam rock to death metal and goth, so some of us would appreciate something other than the electronica and industrial noise you've been blasting out for the past half an hour. We're not actually in a nightclub right now.”

“Oh, if it's music choices that's different. That, I'm afraid, is entirely Grantaire's domain. He's the one in charge of the playlist” Eponine offered with what was a positively evil grin, causing the slumped boy's head to shoot up in surprise and fix her with a bleary eyed and not entirely awake glare.

“No one said anything about having responsibility for anything. My job today started and ended with me bringing my music collection for you all to use and abuse. Anyway,” he fixed them both with a look, “if I have to suffer a headache this morning so does everyone else.” Enjolras mutter something which sounded suspiciously like 'isn't that every morning'

“Aww, that's so sweet you think you get a say in what you do,” Eponine patted his cheek whilst swiping the laptop from under him. “Let's see what playlists you've already got sorted, hmm, I wonder what's in this one marked Apollo...”

Marius had never seen anyone move so quickly as Grantaire did as he grabbed the laptop back off her, “hey, didn't anyone tell you its rude to look through other people's playlists.” He coloured slightly as he spoke, glancing towards the blond haired boy still glaring at them both from the other side of the table.

A few button presses later and the heavy electronic beat faded out to be replaced by the opening strains of Rush's _Distant Early Warning_ , “There you go, is that pretentiously prog-rockish enough for you, or should I dig out the Pink Floyd?.” he smirked up mockingly at the blond, who seemed torn between being saying thank you and ripping his hair out in frustration.

Suddenly Eponine let out a squeal that Marius didn't even know she could make and he soon found himself enveloped in a hug. “Hey Marius, you made it!”

“Well I said I would, although I hadn't planned to get here quite so early.” He awkwardly returned her hug. Eponine hadn't been much of a hug person before Uni, but then they hadn't been apart for over a year before.

“Glad you did, it gets manic in here later, and since I'm stuck with this reprobate until some of the other committee members make it, I'll no doubt end up doing all the work.”

“You expect me here before 10am on a Saturday, you get what you are given,” said reprobate protested, although without all that much force behind it as he went back to slumping on the desk, “anyway, wake me when impressionable young fresher's actually start arriving.”

“Hey, I'm an impressionable young fresher... I think” Marius trailed off in his protest when he realised what he was protesting about, eliciting a smirk from the other boy.

“Oh hey, looks like you've already met R,” Marius almost jumped out of his skin as Courfeyrac clapped him on the should from behind.

“Um, we've not really been introduced or anything,” Marius looked between the two boys trying to figure out which of the two of them could be R. Hoping that it was the more sensible, if somewhat self-righteous, looking Enjolras but suspecting it was far more likely to be the dishevelled looking Grantaire.

“The who in the what now? I'm meant to be being introduced to someone?” Grantaire mumbled from the table, confirming Marius' fears. Oh well, could be worse. At least he didn't look like the kind of person who'd try and kill him in his sleep. Although potentially he could be the kind to get drunk and pass out on him.

“Eponine, for shame, haven't you introduced your friend to everyone,” Courfeyrac looked at her with a mock glare, resulting in her reaching around Marius to give him a slap on the back of the head.

“I was just getting to that. Marius, since you seem to have met the irrepressible ball of flirtation and energy that is Courfeyrac, R or Grantaire is the one slumped in the corner, (if in doubt assume that anything he says is sarcastic), the tower of righteous fury is Enjorlas (but don't worry, he's harmless really), and the quiet one in the back there, _who should really learn to stop sneaking up like that,_ is Combeferre.” She pointed out the bespectacled blond that Courfeyrac had be talking to earlier, who'd come over without Marius noticing to perch on one of the empty tables. “Guys, this is Marius, my friend from school.”

“Oh, is this _the_ Marius?” Grantaire leered at him, causing Eponine threw a ball of paper at him, hitting him squarely on the nose. At least her propensity towards casual violence hadn't changed.

“Anyway, the important question here is what Courfeyrac wanted to introduce you to R for,” Eponine quickly changed the subject before Marius could start asking what exactly Grantaire meant.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Courfeyrac smirked at her, “we were just talking about getting Marius into a bed.”

Marius felt himself colouring and looked away, entirely missing Eponine's answering blush, and stuttered quickly, “he means offering me a bed to sleep in, in a spare room that is, not in anyone elses.”

“You have a spare room now? What happened to what's-her-name, Bahorel's girlfriend?” Enjolras asked quizzically, the idea that anyone else in the house would have chosen to move out not even occuring to him.

“Wow Apollo, you really pay attention to your friends love lives don't you. They broke up a month ago and _Christina_ found alternative accommodation.” Grantaire's voice was mocking, causing Enjolras to scowl, although to Marius he also looked a tad guilty too.

“I'm sorry that I apparently have more important things than to keep up with gossip.”

“Hey guys, as much as I love the fact you're getting back into the old traditions and everything, can we stick to the point.” Courfeyrac interrupted them quickly, heading off what seemed to be the beginnings of an argument. Marius somehow got the impression that this happened a lot.

“Marius, this here is Grantaire, one of my wonderful housemates. Enjolras, however, is not. Thankfully. Or I imagine the house would have already been the scene of at least one particularly bloody murder.”

“Hey,” Grantaire gave him another wave and a smile he probably thought was reassuring. It wasn't. “Don't let Courfeyrac put you off, the rest of us are sane. Mostly.”

Marius tried to muster a small smile in return, even as he heard a snort from Combeferre behind him.

“Seriously, run while you still can,” he said dryly, earning himself a mocking smirk from Grantaire and a god-honest pout from Courfeyrac.

Enjolras, in the meantime, had clearly gotten bored of the conversation. Either that, or he had noticed that the fair had technically started 10 minutes ago, because he turned to Courfeyrac. “Did you bring the money box?”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Courfeyrac reassured him, wandering back over the to SF&F stall to pick up the money box in question. He picked up a stack of folded paper cards next to it, waving them around, “I even brought the membership cards, assuming one of you remembered the laminator thingies.”

“You mean these,” Combeferre, the ever organised, pressed a small stack of plastic card self-laminating card sleeves into his hands.

“Awesome,” Courfeyrac set about making the top three cards up, “One for you oh fearless leader, one for our esteemed Secretary, and one for me.”

“These are really good. Where did you get them done?” Enjolras sounded pleasantly surprised as he examined the design on his card before checking the other membership cards to see if they were the same.

For lack of anything else to do, Marius looked too, noticing that there seemed to three different designs, all featuring the same dragon and UFO in different stages of battle. The first of which had the Dragon gnawing on the space-ship caught between his paws, the second showed the ship hovering victories over the defeated reptile (Combeferre's card was of the former, whilst Enjolras' was the latter). The third was a stand-off, the two glaring at each other across the face of the card.

“R's work, well his design, my trip down the print office to have them run off of course. So really it was a joint effort.”

“And now, I'm going to take my reward for all my hard work,” Grantaire casually slung an arm over Courfeyrac's should as he flipped through the pile of pre-numbered cards to pick out the one marked '42' (the dragon victorious in this one), which had already been pre-printed with an 'R' on it.

“Seriously, you let him have 42?” Enjolras was glaring at Courfeyrac.

Grantaire smirked, “eventually you're just going to have to accept that I really _am_ the answer to life, the universe and everything.”

Combeferre interrupted what looked to be gearing up to another squabble, “Seems like a fair exchange to me. You still need to fill in the form though, with your _real_ name, and pay member dues of course.”

“Yeah, yeah. How much is it this year?” Grantaire picked up the form, skipping over the first page to go straight to line 42 so he kept the same membership number. For some reason, Combeferre looked faintly disappointed when he checked the entry as he took the sheet back.

“Four of your shiny pounds.” Courfeyrac held out his hand with a grin.

“Seriously? That's a massive mark up from last year, what are you spending all the lovely extra money on.”

“It's not our choice, the Union won't let us charge any less.” Enjolras was scowling at the whole thing.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Eponine remarked, perched in Combeferre's previous position so she could join in the conversation and still keep an eye on her own stall, “we're going to loose a lot of casual members as it becomes too expensive to just sign up on an off-chance.”

“The whole thing is ridiculous. The big societies will manage fine, AlternaSoc or SF&F have a big enough core base to keep a good number of paying members. It's the smaller societies who will suffer, finding it difficult to attract enough people willing to pay so that they can meet the threshold for Union funding.” Marius could suddenly see why Eponine had introduced Enjolras as a tower of righteous fury, there really was no over way to describe the passion with which he ranted, even about something as mundane as student society funding. It was... slightly terrifying if he was going to be honest.

Grantaire, however seemed less impressed, “which is probably what they want in the first place. Student Union funding isn't about who needs it, it's about who's friends with which member of the SU committee. And since most of them came up from the big societies, they're obviously going to want to give the money to their friends. Student politics is all about the nepotism and let's face it, us geeks are never going to be part of the 'in crowd'.”

“Sorry we're late,” a cheerful voice interrupted whatever response Enjolras may have had regarding the finer points of student politics, as a taller bald man and his smaller, slightly frail looking, companion came up to join them. Well staggered in the case of the bald student, a large and obviously heavy rucksack on his back weighing him down.

“Bossuet got attacked by geese on the way here and I had to check to make sure none of them had broken the skin. Do you know how many diseases a goose carries?” the smaller boy explained, dropping his own load of what seemed to be foam weaponry of various shapes and sizes.

“Seriously, those things are evil and organised. They're doing military drills all over campus, they're clearly plotting to take over campus. I ran into a whole battalion of them blocking the bridge, they attacked me on sight! If it wasn't for Joly here, I would have been lost!” the man, obviously the Bossuet previously referred to, didn't seem entirely put out by the prospect and was smiling even as he told his tale.

He dropped the bag towards the end and started pulling out what looked to be bits of costume, the others moving to help him as they sorted through what he and Joly had brought, although Marius couldn't quite figure out why they needed that sort of stuff at a Fresher's Fair. 

Marius had clearly been forgotten, even by Eponine who, now the fair had officially started, had headed back to her own stall, dragging Grantaire with her. They seemed close and Marius wondered briefly if this was the boyfriend she'd hinted at. Either way, she didn't seem to need him here. He felt both lost and overwhelmed by the whole siutuation, and wondered why on earth he thought this was a good idea. 

He was no good at people and he had no idea how to even grab his new acquaintances (friends? potential housemates?) attention to remind them he was here. Being by himself he could handle, being around people who he didn't really know and were mostly ignoring him was considerably more difficult. With a last vain attempt to grab someone's, anyone's, eye, he slipped out the hall not bothering to glance back to see if anyone had noticed him leave.

If he had, he would have seen Eponine's eyes following him all the way out the hall with a look of disappointed longing.

++++

After leaving the fair, Marius found himself wandering aimlessly around campus not really sure what to do with himself now that it seemed like his housing issues had been sorted. The idea of returning to his room and the room-mate from hell was far from appealing, but somehow heading back to the hall and the group of Eponine's friends was even more terrifying, even if he knew he'd have to bite the bullet at some point (he hadn't even gotten the address of the house... or a phone number).

Just, well, not yet.

He really needed a bit of time to himself, some breathing space really. Something he'd been missing after having to share a room for a week with no quiet and no privacy. There was only so much socialising Marius could take before he started feeling overwhelmed by it all and frankly he felt like he'd probably hit that point about half way through the last week.

Instead, he found himself at the other end of campus, perched on a bench by the lake, eating a sandwich and reading one of the battered paperbacks he always tried to carry around in his coat exactly for this reason. Reading, as well as being enjoyable, always made sitting alone less awkward. No one tried to talk to you or assumed you needed 'company' if you had a book on you.

Not that he was entirely alone of course. One of the things about eating sandwiches on a campus filled with waterfowl is that they tended to assume you'd be willing to share, and Marius had picked up quite a little following of ducks and moorhens gathered hopefully around his bench, occasionally squabbling over a bit of bread he accidentally, or once he'd noticed them not so accidentally, let slip.

“They'll mark you as a soft touch if you keep on feeding them like that,” a warm, amused voice interrupted his reading.

Marius looked up and his heart caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. It was like he had forgotten how to breath, how to think, how to, well anything really.

“Um, what?” his brain finally figuring out that he should probably say something but having made that decision, pretty much given up when it came to figuring out what.

She blushed and looked away, stammering slightly, “the ducks. If you start giving them food at the beginning of term, they'll never leave you alone. They're pretty good at figuring out which students will share food with them.”

Now that her eyes were no longer fixed on him, he found that his mind had somehow managed to scoop enough brain cells together to at least provide half a response, “I heard it was the geese you had to watch out for. Apparently they're trying to take over campus.” He winced, that had sounded a lot better in his head.

Still, it drew out a laugh, a slightly nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Oh yes, the geese are bad, but it's the ducks who are the real brains behind he operation, the geese are just the muscle.” She looked back at him with a smile which somehow seemed brighter than even the sun (although in fairness that particular light was having a lot of trouble making it through the clouds).

Was this what they meant when they talked about love at first sight? Marius felt like the moment could go on forever.

In fact, it barely made thirty seconds before a loud buzzing interrupted them and suddenly the girl was jumping up, checking her phone. “Oh I'm so sorry, I promised my friend I'd meet them and I'm already late.”

She started gathering her things, stammering apologies, “I'll see you around, I guess.” She gave him a smile before starting to run.

“Wait!” Marius called just as she started turning the corner of the path, but either she didn't hear him or couldn't stop. “I don't even know your name,” he murmured to himself dejectedly and he found himself once again alone except for the ducks looking up at him expectantly, hopeful for more food.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire is distinctly not giving our flyers and Marius actually gets an address

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire rambles, even in his own mind. This chapter took far too long to write (I swear, the next one will be quicker)

Grantaire leaned back against the tree and took a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying the autumn sunshine on his face. He almost regretted the fact that his current outfit was made mostly of fur but now and again a sharp breeze cut through the air and sending a shiver through his body.

His position was a tactical one, allowing him to distribute the small pile of flyers he had next to him without actually having to move from his currently very comfortable seat.

Not that he was trying excessively hard. He wasn't wholly sure why he was even out here trying to convince fresh faced youngsters to consider signing up to their illustrious (ha!) society. That was a lie, he knew exactly why he was here, and it had everything to do with a certain blond haired, blue eyed, ridiculously attractive society president but fucked if he was going to admit that anyone.

Nonetheless, not even the potential of Enjolras approval (like that was going to happen) could actually muster in him the will to actively talk to Freshers, let alone interact with them long enough to convince them to join the society. Anyway he was pretty certain that was the job of the committee members themselves, enthusiastically manning the stall as they were. He carefully ignored the fact that he was also on the committee. It didn't count. His friends had nominated and voted him as society graphic designer without his knowledge, since a) he actually had some sort of artistic talent, and b) his friends were all bastards.

In any case, as far as he was concerned his job was as just to be a walking, well sitting, advert for their existence. Like those guys wandering down the highstreet in weird costumes or holding big signs directing your to thoroughly dodgy mobile phone shops or payday lenders.

Fuck, he was bored and sober, way, way too fucking sober.

He'd made a resolution this term to cut down on his drinking – okay, he made that resolution pretty much every term. Fuck, he made it every morning when he woke up with his head pounding and his mouth feeling like something had died in it, every evening when Enjolras looked at his sorry drunken hide with disdain and every night that his binges went too far and he was such a pitiful mess that even Courfeyrac, who'd been putting up with his fuck-ups for far too long, looked at him with worry and sadness.

So yeah, the intention wasn't exactly new, and he didn't exactly have all that much hope of it turning out any better this time than the previous attempts. But it had been a week, and so far he'd managed to at least confine his drinking to the evenings, which was definitely an improvement, even if it left him feeling shaky and on edge during most of the day.

He surveyed the small crowds of students making their way towards the hall suspiciously in case any of them would expect him to interact with them. Most, it seemed, were going out their way to avoid him, which frankly he couldn't blame them, but he recognised the figure of Marius (and he wasn't going to forget that name in a hurry given how often he'd heard Eponine bending his ear about him) wandering towards him with a somewhat dazed expression on his face.

Grantaire faintly wondered if he was high, and if he was would he mind sharing?

“Do you think it's possible to fall in love at first sight?” Marius greeted him without preamble.

Okay, it was official, Grantaire was _way_ too sober for this shit.

Almost of their own volition his hands found his water bottle, the burn of the alcohol a far too sweet comfort to him. Hey, the sun has to be over the yard-arm somewhere in the world?

“Why? Who have you been talking to?” Because Eponine had better not been blabbing about his lov..., infatuation with Enjolras, a _gain_. Apparently him falling head over heels for someone the day after subjecting everyone to a rant about the unreality of Hollywood depictions of love at first sight was absolutely hilarious. In his defence, it had only been lust at first sight. It took three meetings and an impassioned rant about how Star Trek's Federation was really a colonial militaristic authoritarian state for love to come into the picture.

“The most beautiful girl possible. Down by the lake. She was like an angel, an angel without a name.” He still seemed to be in a daze as he spoke.

Oh well, that was different. The cynic rolled his eyes and silently mourned his good bottle of absinth which was now inevitably going to have to be put towards getting wasted with Eponine when she found out. His initial plan for it had been to convince Courfeyrac to dump his harpy of a current girlfriend. Because no one should be able to get away with saying things like _that_ to Jehan. Technically she'd said it to Grantaire too, but he'd had worse so it didn't really matter as much when he was the target.

Courf's love-life, however, was a constant drama. The absinthe definitely had a higher cause now.

Marius it seemed, at least had some social graces, because almost as soon as he'd spoken he blushed, realising he was pretty much pouring his heart out to a virtual stranger.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably between them as Marius looked pretty much everywhere except for the steadily getting drunk cynic. His eyes fell of the flyers by his side and he grasped the potential topic for conversation like a half-drowned man will grabs for a rope, which is to say with very little grace or dexterity but an enthusiasm born of desperation, “Aren't you meant to handing those out?”

Grantaire scoffed, “Please, I'm sitting here in LARP kit looking like something out of Lord of the Rings,” he waved his hands towards his current outfit, a mix of heavy furs and chainmail accompanied by a latex covered foam sword on his back and a shield by his side. Since he'd borrowed about half of it off Bahorel it was a little big on him, but it was certainly likely to make an impression.

“Your average student will run a mile seeing this, no matter how many flyers I try to foist upon them. On the other hand our target audience will probably be seeking out the society anyway, since us geeks like to stick together. So they only really need me to make it clear we exist, and if necessary, point them in the right direction towards our, often overenthusiastic, committee members manning the stall. Essentially, instead of wandering up to people at random to annoy them, I can easily do my required task by sitting in an overly visible and prominent place.”

“But what about people who think they might enjoy it, but wouldn't necessarily try go out their way to look for the society if they didn't know what it offered? I mean, I enjoy reading SF&F books, and I like the idea of roleplaying, and I mean what Eponine says about live action roleplaying certainly sounds fun, even I doubt I'd be much good at it. But I've never really had to chance to try any of it and might not have considered joining if it hadn't been for Eponine and Courfeyrac” he said the last name as if sounding it out in case he'd remembered it wrong. Which, Grantaire reflected wasn't exactly an usual reaction when dealing with well most of their friendship group really, given that over half of them went by their surnames (for various reasons including, as it was known, the crisis of infinite James').

“Ah yes, but you didn't join did you. Sure, you may get people to look, they may even sign up to a mailing list, but most won't bother actually turning up to an activity generally considered to be the preserve of 20-something male virgins with few social skills and even less concept of personal hygiene. Which, I must hasten to add lest I fail entirely is a highly misleading stereotype – you'll find most of us manage to avoid conforming to at least two out of the three.”

“I was going to join, I still will and not just because you're all Eponine friends. I just had things to do.” Marius shrugged awkwardly.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and took another swig, the alcohol sharpening his usual sarcasm, “Clearly. You had beautiful angels to meet without getting their name. Or did Courf's attempt to drag you into our little ménage scare you off? Not that I blame you, I sure as hell wouldn't want to live with us.”

“Oh no, I still want to move and your place is the best one I've seen, well its the only one I've seen so far but it looks good.” Marius stopped rambling, and smiled sheepishly, “I did realise after I left that I didn't get an address, or phone number for that matter. If the room's still available, I'd like to come see it.”

Well, Grantaire could kinda see what Eponine saw in the lad, if you liked the whole Lost Puppy thing (his own tastes ran far more towards beautiful arrogant bastards for it to ever grab him, but he supposed it was kinda cute). He scribbled the address and Courf's number on the back of one of the flyers and handed it over with a flourish, “Most of us should be back by 530ish, so any time after that is good.”

If nothing else, the cynic considered as he watched Marius wander off, he seemed an improvement over Bahorel's, now ex-, girlfriend.

++++

After Marius had left, promising to be there at “530! 6 at the latest!” (Grantaire was taking bets for 7 – he looked like someone for whom punctuality happened to other people), he leaned back against the tree and started sketching on the back of one of the flyers to amuse himself in between handing them out to curious freshers. All in all, it was actually a half-way pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

“So this is where Enjolras exiled you off to,” a large shadow loomed over him causing Grantaire to peer up in annoyance.

“Fuck off Bahorel, you're in my light.”

“Pretty sure you're meant to be handing them out not using them as a canvas,” the large Geordie metal-er replied before slumping down besides him on the grass.

“Oh I don't know, R is pretty good, I'm sure its worth a flyer or two,” Jehan peered over his shoulder to see what he was drawing, a couple of his small braids (tied up with blood red ribbon of all things) dangling in Grantaire's face as he did so. And really, what was this, an ambush?

His two housemates made quite the pair, a bit like little and large. Not that Jehan was especially small, although his tendency to dress in poet shirts and frock coats (which despite being almost entirely black, he still managed to make clash) could make him look effete to anyone who wasn't aware of the solid wiry muscle underneath.

Bahorel picked up one of the flyers Grantaire had been working on before he could hide it. It was covered with a caricature of Enjolras lecturing a somewhat bashful looking dragon clutching a disney-esque Princess about how his diet was wholly undemocratic and served to reinforce the monarchistic system. “Remind me why you don't do art again?”

“Because art students are pretentious twats and it would be a tragedy if I was to become one.” Grantaire snatched the drawing away from him, uncomfortable with any of his friends paying too much attention to his less than stellar artwork.

It wasn't entirely a lie, but the real reason was that he actually enjoyed drawing and nothing was going to make him hate it more than actually studying it for a degree, A-Level Art was bad enough. It was the same reason, Jehan had confided in him one night when they were both a more than a little drunk, the poet was studying Psychology and not English. So whilst Jehan just smiled at him at the answer and refused to rise to the obvious opening. Bahorel, was not so restrained.

“ _Become_ one?”

“Oh ha ha. Anyway, what are you two doing here? Aren't you meant to be corrupting young minds towards 'satanistic music' and 'evil witchcraft' respectively? Last I heard Jehan, you were making some girl from the Christian Union cry.” Grantaire changed the subject quickly before they had a chance to grab the second part of it, with the Dragon, which had somehow taken on a distinct resemblance to Bahorel during the conversation, having abandoned his previous meal and replaced it with a fuming Enjolras instead whilst a speech bubble exclaimed 'this wasn't what I meant!'.

They both looked at him oddly in response to the question.

“Man, Fresher's fair was over an hour ago.”

“We just finished clearing up, well me and Bahorel, Courf hasn't managed to escape from Enjolras' watchful gaze yet.”

Grantaire snorted, “Slave driving Apollo strikes again, rather him than me.” They all knew that was a lie but his friends were kind enough to ignore it.

Bahorel grins back viciously, “Yeah, he's whining like a two year old about it too. It's kinda pathetic.”

“He's not that bad,” Jehan admonished him, “But we thought we'd come find you whilst they finished up before we headed home.” Which was Jehan speak for 'Courfeyrac and Enjolras are both being unbearable but I'm far too nice to say it'.

“Yeah, everyone's heading round at half 6 for film night, so we want to head soon if we want to decontaminate the living room enough that Joly will actually sit down this time.”

That caused Grantaire to sit up quickly, “What time is it?”

Bahorel shrugged, not known for either his timekeeping skills nor possession of a watch, so Jehan answers instead, “Gone 5, why?”

“Shit, shit.” Grantaire jumped up then promptly regretted it as his body reminded him he'd been sitting on the hard ground for the past 4 hours. “We're going to miss him if we're not careful. Come on, lets get going”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Marius. Eponine's friend? He's coming round to have a look at the box room tonight.” He bent over to pick up his bag, staggering slightly as the vodka and squash he'd been making his way through most of the afternoon hit his head.

“R...?” Grantaire studiously ignored the concerned look Jehan was giving him, waving him off with a grin and hoping he'd drop it.

Thankfully Bahorel, oblivious, or at least kind enough to pretend to be, interjected, “Seriously? He actually exists? We were beginning to think he was a figment of Courf's imagination.”

“We almost managed to convince Courf of that too.” Jehan, bless him, took the cue to move on, although not without a final concerned glance at Grantaire.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius visits the infamous house and Grantaire has a rant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems I can't channel R without rambling - at least I'm keeping in IC. 
> 
> Also, it is my headcanon that Combeferre's taste in both books and films are basically eithere a) extremely complex, deep and erudite or b) completely awful and trashy fantasy/sci-fi. There is no inbetween.

Marius stood nervously outside the terraced house and double checked his watch. He was late and the house was hardly the easiest to find from campus. Or at least that is certainly the excuse he would give if asked. It required both a walk across the common land just next to the university filled with highly curious, and faintly terrifying, herds of cows and then passage through an overly imposing army barracks (well technically he supposed a footpath through two halves of the base but it still involved barbed wired walls and men with guns on walkways above him). And then of course finding the actual street the house was on when all the road signs seemed to be hiding... well all in all it was getting on for 630 and however relaxed about time his potential new housemate had seemed earlier today (what kind of name was R anyway), he doubted being almost an hour late was going to endear him much.

Still, he took a deep breath, double checked the address, prayed that the boy hadn't been playing a practical joke on him and given him the wrong address (it was, he was ashamed to admit, one of his long-lasting fears to knock on some random persons door instead of his intended destination) and rang the bell.

“Hey... Marcus, right?” Courfeyrac opened the door with a bounce. He'd changed his t-shirt since earlier, this one with a large twenty-sided dice and the words 'Jesus saves...' on the front (which almost made Marius think he'd made a terribly mistake until the other boy turned around to lead him into the house and he saw the second part '...everyone else take 6d6 fire damage').

“Marius” he corrected quickly.

“Oh yeah, of course Marius. Knew it was an M name,” he waved the mistake off with a grin. “You came back! You disappeared so quickly earlier that I almost thought you'd been a figment of my imagination or possibly a joke by Eponine, she's tricksy like that. How did you find the place anyway?”

Marius wasn't sure he'd ever heard Eponine described as tricksy before but managed to stammer a reply nonetheless“Um, R gave me the address”

“Awesome, knew we kept him around for something. Well come on in, I'll give you the grand tour.” Courfeyrace steps aside with an exaggerated bow and Marius cautiously made his way across the threshold.

“The door on your left is Bahorel's room. I'd strongly advise not going in there, some of the things in there have probably developed sentience by now.” The excitable Irishman gestured to a door on his left as he spoke, before leading him further down the hallway.

They passed a large noticeboard with takeaway menus pinned to it, three University timetables (one, Computer Science by the looks of it, had two sets of highlighting on it), various leaflets for different causes, a couple of bills and a list marked 'Things That Will Not End Well'. The latter seemed to have started off as a typed list of people's allergies and house rules (Feeding Jehan Dairy, Giving Courf sugar (use sweetener people – diabetic comas are not fun!- C), Leaving the front door unlocked), but then had been added to by hand over time to contain the mildly alarming (Arm wrestling with Bahorel (Unless you're R), Calling Jehan emo - he WILL cut you, Getting in a drinking contest with Grantaire) to the downright surreal (Trying to get Courfeyrac drunk so he will tell you R's first name (I will destroy all your comics Courf, even the one's you hide at your parents – R), Feeding the Courfeyrac after midnight, Doing what the Green Fairy tells you). Marius gives up on trying to figure the last one out and follow Courfeyrac down the hallway into the living room.

It's a decent size, with a kitchen off one side looking faintly clean (this was, he was to later find out, only an occurrence when anyone was expecting Joly to be eating there and wanted to avoid giving him a panic attack) and a staircase running up the side, which was probably, on reflection, why the large space hadn't been turned into another bedroom. There were two battered sofas, a large three-seater along the far wall, a smaller two-seater stuffed underneath the stairs in a way which looked exceedingly uncomfortable for anyone over 6 foot and a bookcase overflowing with boardgames and roleplaying books.

It also contained Grantaire and another boy with long-hair and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, both of whom were currently lounging on beanbags by the TV and arguing over the computer game they were playing. Well arguing was possibly a bit kind, since the larger boy was apparently trying to get Grantaire into a headlock, which he seemed to be avoiding with a surprising amount of success (well at least one of the items on the list was starting to make sense).

“I'd say they aren't normally like this, but I'd be lying.” Courfeyrac commented pointedly, grabbing both boys attention. “Guys, this is Marius, he's come to look at renting our box room, so try and act human for a while.”

Grantaire greeted him with a lazy wave with the can of beer he rescued from a side table whilst the larger boy rolled to his feet and headed over, large grin on his face. “Bahorel, ignore anything these fuckwits have been saying about me, its all lies and I deny everything.”

“And of course you've met R.” Courfeyrac interrupted as Marius stammered a hello, “Which means the only one of our household you've yet to be introduced to is Jehan. Where is our darling gothy poet anyway?”

“Skyping with his worse half. It's so sweet it's almost sickening.” Bahorel sounded suitably disgusted at the prospect, although whether that was to do with the Skyping, the sweetness or the 'worse half' was unclear.

Mistaking Marius' puzzlement for confusion, Grantaire explained, “Jehan is far to nice to have a better half, therefore anyone going out with him is automatically his worse half.”

Courfeyrac let out a noise of disbelief, “Skyping already? I thought they only saw each other last week-end”

“And I tend to consider speaking to my boyfriend more than once a week to be the sign of a healthy relationship.” A tall lithe boy admonished Courfeyrac gently. Marius guessed this was the 'gothy poet', judging by the amount of black he was dressed in.

He smiled sweetly, “You must be Marius, I'm Jean Prouvaire, but you can call me Jehan. Has anyone offered you a drink yet? Of course they haven't. We have tea, coffee, water? We might even have some squash left if R hasn't used it all as vodka mixer”

Jehan quickly took over from Courfeyrac as tour guide, despite the other boy's pouts, and after plying Marius with sweet tea, showed him round the rest of the house. The box room was, as promised, small with barely a enough room for a bed and a desk (the wardrobe was out in the hallway and apparently filled with other peoples things which Jehan apologetically promised to move). But it was cheap and comparative to his current accommodation, significantly nicer.

“I know Courfeyrac can be a bit overwhelming, but you shouldn't let his enthusiasm push you into a decision you'll regret. There's no problem if you need some time to make your mind up.” Jehan reassured him after he'd shown him the rest of the house, his eyes shining with an intense sort of concern.

Marius paused. He may have been described as socially oblivious by more than a few people (Eponine, his parents and a particularly memorable primary school teacher), but even he knew an out when he was being offered one. The sensible thing he supposed would be to take some time to think about it, look at some other houses, even see if he Accommodation Department could come up with an alternative. Very few people had ever described Marius as sensible however and he'd found Courfeyrac's enthusiasm as attractive as it was overwhelming. That and the idea of spending another night with the roommate from hell was far from appealing. Sleeping in his non-existent car would be a preferable option.

“How soon can I move in?” He was rewarded with a beaming smile that definitely made it worthwhile.

+++++

The living room, previously relatively tidy and inhabited only by Grantaire, Bahorel and the games console had now, it seemed, been invaded by half a dozen students, divesting themselves of bags and coats and seemingly involved in a four-way argument over something to do with the Student Union. Or at least the fiery blond, Enjolras he recalled, was doing most of the arguing with Courfeyrac and the other boy from the SF&F stall (something French that began with C, Marius was certain) where alternatively egging him on and trying to interject some rational calm into the conversation until the occasional pointed comment from Grantaire set him off again.

The stereo system was playing _Run to the Hills_ and Marius was starting to think that was an eminently good suggestion until Eponine spotted him from chatting with the two other boys from earlier, Joly and Bossuet he recalled, all of whom seemed to be pointedly ignoring the ongoing argument behind them.

“Marius, you made it, I was getting worried when you disappeared earlier,” she gave him a relieved smile, before frowning and punching him lightly on the arm, “you could have replied to some of my texts.”

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, “my phone died this morning and I haven't had a chance to charge it up.”

“Again?” Eponine asked as if it wasn't pretty much a guaranteed occurrence. “Well you're here now. You are staying for film night right?”

“Um, film night?” It was the first he'd heard about it and Marius was unsure he'd actually be welcome given he'd only just met everyone.

“Yeah, we get together every Saturday and watch terrible, terrible movies.” This was from Joly who was sounding far to excited for a man brandishing a DVD of some obscure 80s fantasy film.

“Krull is a classic” the bespectacled blond took a moment out of the argument to protest.

“Doesn't stop it being awful 'Ferre,” Courfeyrac laughed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, “is that you vetoing it then?”

“I am” Enjolras interjected

Grantaire snorted, “Not so fast, oh fearless leader, you used your veto last week.”

“Grantaire is right,” Combeferre agreed, ignoring the muttered 'bet you never thought you'd have to say that' from Courfeyrac, “there is a reason we all instituted the 'one veto a term' rule or we'd never all agree on anything. This week was my choice and we're watching Krull”

“I'm still not convinced Grantiare didn't suggest V for Vendetta last week just to get me to use my veto on the first film night of the term.” If it had been anyone else, it would have sounded like he was sulking

“What's so wrong with V for Venetta? I thought it was a great film” Marius asked bemused eliciting a chorus of groans from the rest of the assembled friends and at least a couple of 'oh god, not this again'.

“It's a gross oversimplification of the original source material, taking it from its original anarchy / fascist themes and instead placing it on a more US centric, and over simplistic, liberal – conservative axis.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, “You see, this is why geeks can't have nice things. Fanboys clamour for ages for someone to adapt their favourite title, then immediately start complaining about how it is not an exact replica of the original and how Hollywood has 'ruined it forever' for even the most minor storytelling changes irrespective of how logical, sensible or necessary said changes are. Its like the Lord of the Rings fans who complain about them leaving out the Tom Bombadil sections of the Fellowship of the Ring, despite the fact that Tom Bombadil is nonsensical, boring and completely extraneous to the plot. Let's face it, Hollywood makes movies ultimately to make money. People don't want to see a complex and morally ambiguous allegory to Margaret Thatcher's Britain, most young people in _this_ country wouldn't get the context, their teenage years spent under Major and Blair, although really Blair is an inheritor to Thatcher in so many ways, they don't have the frame a reference to understand the paradigm shift that happened in our politics during the late 70s and early 80s. And Americans, which lets face it is the major audience Hollywood caters for, since they seem to forget most of the time that the rest of the world actually exists, definitely don't want to be exposed to anything that breaks their dominant political reality and forces them to consider issues on a more complex axis than just a conservative-liberal dimension, although even their liberals probably happily sit somewhere to the right of the BNP in this country, alongside New Labour of course. Most people are lazy and stupid and want something that panders to their worldview and doesn't challenge them to actually think any differently. Sure they may like films that deal with ' _serious issues TM'_ and shower Oscars on them, but they only want to do it in a way that actually just reaffirms their existing beliefs. Why the fuck would Hollywood, when its adapting something with a niche fanbase, stick exactly to the source material if they know the general public won't get it. They want to make money, they know the fanboys will pay to see if anyway, even if its only to complain about it, _exactly like you're doing,_ so they'll do whatever they want with the story, stick the name on it and watch the money role in.”

Throughout the speech Grantaire has been gesturing with the beer bottle in his hand, to the point that Courfeyrac and Combeferre carefully removed any of the more breakable objects from within his vicinity. Enjolras on the other hand seemed to be getting more and more annoyed and, once Grantaire had finished immediately opened his mouth for a rejoinder before pausing, and then with what could only be described as a smug grin said, “So you won't be vetoing _Constantine_ if I suggest if for next week then?”

“That depends, are you nominating it?” Grantaire challenged him.

They stared each other down, “Yes, yes I am”

Grantaire smirked, “Then no, I'm not. Because if I have to sit through that travesty of a film then everyone else does. It's a pain that has to be shared and only alcohol can make it better.” He took a long drink before adding with a grin, “Also because I know that Courfeyrac will veto it for me”

“Hell yes I'm vetoing it, no one should have to suffer through that!” Courfeyrac quickly jumped in before his brain caught up with him, “... wait, what? Fuck you R. Fuck it, I'm still vetoing. Revenge is not worth sitting through that. I have other ways, oh yes.”

“Are they always like this?” Marius asked Eponine, wondering how two people who so obviously hated each other were doing as friends.

“That's actually pretty tame for them.”

“Courfeyrac's running a book on whether they'll fuck or kill each other first. My money's on both at the same time in some horrible sado-masocistic murder/suicide scenario,” Bahorel joined the conversation, slinging an arm round Joly, which had him looking faintly nauseous, and Eponine who promptly elbowed him until he removed it with a grin. “Hey, Bossuet, we getting the lovely Muschetta tonight?”

“Don't know, I broke my phone again.” Bossuet informed them all with a careless shrug, “Joly? You heard anything”

The other boy fished his phone, taking the opportunity to extract himself from Bahorel's arm and take up a position with Bossuet in between them as a protective shield, “She can't make it, she has to work. Feuilly's on his way however, should be here in 15.”

Bahorel smirked,“Man, doesn't it get weird getting messages from your girlfriend through someone else's phone?”

Feuilly's arrival actually took about half an hour, apparently due to the need to stop at the corner shop on the way for more alcohol, as a result of which his arrival was greeted with cries of joy by Grantaire and Bahorel, and declarations that 'right bitches, we're ordering food now or I'm going to start cannibalising people and I'm starting with you Enjolras if you take half an hour choosing again' from Courfeyrac.

Once the menu had gone round and Joly had gone off to phone through the order (apparently so he could check on whether anything he was ordering could kill him), everyone settled down into their seats with an ease borne of familiarity.

Grantaire, Enjolras and Combeferre claimed the three-seater, Grantaire stretching his legs out over Enjorlas' lap before the other boy pushed them off in frustration. Courfeyrac and Jehan sat practically on top of each other on one-half of the two-seater sofa, whilst Joly, upon his return gingerly occupying the other half, Bossuet stealing a cushion to sit on the floor by his feet. Feuilly claimed a beanbag 'as far away from you reprobates as possible' eyeing up Grantaire and Courfeyrac in particular, whilst Bahorel disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a large office chair which he proceeded to place next to Feuilly's beanbag and steal some of his alcohol. Marius felt looked around in slight desperation for somewhere to sit before Eponine pulled him down onto her beanbag with a strange smile and they eventually settled down to watch the film.

Well, watch was probably a too strong word, since the group seemed to spend about half the time commenting on the film as actually watching it. With interjections such as “Seriously, we're meant to root for the hero despite the fact that the opening narration pretty much tells us his son is going to rule the galaxy. By what right? Simply because his father is a king?” and “What the fuck is that weapon? That is probably the most impractical thing in existence. _I_ could come up with a better weapon than that. It's not even a actual glaive!”

“Hey, isn't that the guy from the new Robin Hood?” this last one was from Courfeyrac about half way through the film.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, “You're admitting to actually watching the new Robin Hood.”

“You know, I think he's right, that looks a lot like the guy playing Alan-a-Dale, Joe Armstrong or something.” Eponine agreed, “What? I watch it for the pretty boys. Guy of Gisborn hot, of course Alan is pretty good to look at too.”

“This was released in 1983, so it seems unlikely.” Combeferre frowned and picked up the box, “Alun Armstrong. Maybe they're related?”

Marius considered for a while, “You know, I think he actually looks a lot like a younger version of Ep's dad.”

Eponine paused for a moment as the realisation hit, “Ugh, thanks for that. Now I've seen that I can't unsee it. You have ruined my Robin Hood indulgence for me forever.”

The laughter from the rest of the room made the cushion Eponine then hit him with worthwhile as, for the first time in the evening, he felt like he actually belonged. Maybe moving in here was going to work out well after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An explantion on a few of the overly geeky references:  
> \- A lot of people seem to make V for Vendetta Enjolras' favourite film - however having had the rant a few times about differences with the grapic novel, I figured I'd make him an Alan Moore purist - heavy knows what he'd think of Watchmen  
> \- Constantine, as well as being an awful film, was meant to be based off Hellblazer's John Constantine - a foul mouthed, cynical, amoral, bisexual anti-hero. Clearly Grantaire and Courf are fans (for entierly different reasons). Yeah, the film with Keanu Reeves has fuck all to do with the comics  
> \- Krull stars, among others, Alun Armstrong, who is Joe Armstrong's (of BBC Robin Hood fame) father. Alun in Krull looks identical to Joe (they have on occasion, played younger and older versions of the same character). Alun Armstrong is, of course, the first Thernadier in the West End and returned as him for the 10th anniversary.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a thud as Marius lets his head fall forward on to the table in what is, by now, the universal expression of 'what the hell did I do to end up living with these idiots'

Epilogue

 

Marius was, Jehan reflected, an unassuming housemate. Introverted and shy by nature, he mostly kept himself to himself, either spending the time he wasn't in class in his bedroom reading or wandering aimlessly around the campus or along the river (a sentiment Jehan could appreciate, although how Marius still managed to get himself lost was a mystery). Of course, this didn't mean that the other housemates, well Courfeyrac, didn't nonetheless attempt to occasionally drag him out of his shell (and Jehan couldn't help but find that deer in headlights look he got whenever Courf tried somewhat adorable).

So far, they'd successfully dragged him along to the Musain for the club's weekly Thursday social (nicknamed the Enjolras political action hour by individuals who shall remain nameless) but that was pretty much it. Two weeks in and the only Marius addition on the list of 'Things Which Will Not End Well' (capitalisation mandatory despite whatever R claimed) was 'letting Marius find somewhere on his own', following the boy's now infamous ability to seemingly get himself lost on even the easiest journey (including one memorable occasion when he felt the need to ask where the Minister was, despite the large cathedral being the tallest landmark in the city and clearly visible from pretty much anywhere within the walls).

Last night however, after almost a full day of badgering by Courfeyrac, they'd managed to drag him out to the Corinth's weekly rock night. Eponine's overjoyed smile when he'd turned up had been almost as painful as Marius' complete obliviousness to it.

It had been a good, and overly late, night. It wasn't, therefore, a complete surprise to see Marius looking somewhat shellshocked the next morning. A mug of coffee clutched desperately in front of him in what was probably a desperate attempt to wake up enough in time for his 1015 lecture.

When Jehan's cheerful morning greeting failed to penetrate his morning fog, the poet decided to leave the other boy to it and happily went about his morning routine. It wasn't exactly that he was a morning person, so much as his mood was almost entirely dependent on the weather outside. This morning, having been woken by crisp autumnal sunshine blazing through his poorly drawn curtains, he'd literally bounced out of bed, the meagre hours of sleep he'd managed barely denting his mood.

(They didn't talk about the dark overcast winter days, when even moving seemed like too much effort and led to R, with all too knowing looks, turning up in his room with cups of steaming tea and quiet sympathy.)

Bahorel staggered into the kitchen barely 5 minutes later, grunting a greeting and stealing one of Jehan's slices of toast as he rummaged around in search of his own source of caffeine.

“Training session,” Bahorel grunts out at Jehan's questioning look, because it definitely wouldn't be a lecture which dragged him out of bed this early in the morning, “who the fuck thought it was a good idea to schedule it at 10 in the fucking morning is going to get a piece of my mind.”

Jehan ignored the grumbling and went to sit down at table.

“Don't sit there!” Marius suddenly blurted out before blushing, “I mean, obviously you can sit there but don't, … um, I mean, I wouldn't use the table.”

“Why not? If its the table leg, we just use extra gaffa tape and it seems to hold fine.” Jehan reassured him. Still, he gave the leg in question a cautious poke just in case.

If anything Marius blushes harder, “No, no, it seems very solid, I'm sure. I just, well... last night, Courfeyrac and Grantaire were, well, using it... for, well, you know... that. Together. On the table.”

“Oh yes, they do that,” Jehan replied nonchalantly, and really the expression on Marius' face was adorable.

“Yeah, consider yourself lucky, when C & C were sharing halls, 'Ferre walked in on them in the shower.” Bahorel chimed in.

“Oh, this means that Courfeyrac must have dumped Claire.” Jehan tried to keep the satisfaction out his voice at that, really he did.

Bahorel narrowed his eyes at him, “You have a boyfriend already, no need for you to sound so happy about it”

Jehan pouted, because really people needed to stop reminding him that he had a boyfriend when he was around Courf. He was only trying to look out for him. As a friend of course. “Tsk, and Courfeyrac would make a terrible boyfriend. But that's besides the point, she wasn't any good for him. You should have heard what she said to me and Grantaire.”

“Well sounds like she said the wrong thing around Courf too, because he dumped her bigoted arse last night. Took him longer than expected too, a month is almost a record for him.” The ever revolving door of Courfeyrac's lovelife was pretty much a running joke at this point.

“I don't understand, are Courfeyrac and Grantaire dating? ” Marius did look adorably confused.

“Well you see Marius,” Jehan started carefully, feeling for all the world like a parent giving the 'birds and the bees' speech. Which given that Marius gave the impression of not knowing what sex was (and not in the Enjolras' I don't have time for this shit way), that may not be all the far from the truth.

He paused, searching for the right was to phrase it, “Courfeyrac is very free with his affections,”

“By which he means Courf's a complete man-whore” Bahorel interrupted cheerfully

Jehan decided not to dignify that with a response, it would only encourage him, “and Grantaire is generally accommodating to other men's sexual advances,”

“Basically he's easy” Bahorel continued the commentary with a grin, dodging when this time Jehan did respond with a well-aimed kick.

“So, when neither of them are dating someone else, they will occasionally choose to share that affection. Together. Pretty much anywhere.”

“Basically they're fuck buddies.” Bahorel summed up the conversation succinctly.

There is a thud as Marius lets his head fall forward on to the table in what is, by now, the universal expression of 'what the hell did I do to end up living with these idiots' that Grantaire and Courfeyrac seemed to produce. Bahorel was sent into a fit of cackling as Marius immediately sat bolt upright remembering where exactly said table had been.

Jehan just sighed and got up to add another item to the list of 'Things That Will Not End Well'.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of my US compatriots are wondering, actually sharing a room at university is pretty rare in the UK (though this can depend on the University). However, during my time there, every year people ended up having to do so because the Accommodation office messed the numbers up.


End file.
